A Dark and Twisty Happily Ever After
Chapter One
It's surprising how one day your whole life can feel like it's on the verge of falling apart entirely. Your dog dies, your boyfriend has a wife, your friends are breaking each others hearts, you become a dirty mistress, then an adulterous whore, you get a new boyfriend but you can't love him, your old boyfriend comes back but he can't love you without hurting you, things get better but then your step mom dies, your father blames you, you almost kill yourself, twice, your mom dies, and then your boyfriend thinks you're just too dark and twisty to keep fighting for, so he leaves. Life is not the fairest of journeys; it guts you, stomps on you, and leaves you in a pile of broken emotion. These are the moments where big decisions are made. You can reach out, take another's hand and start anew, or you can lay there and wait for a Mac truck to finish the job.
Meredith strode down the hallway, a clipboard in her hand and her brow furrowed as she looked over the stats of a man who'd come in a week prior with what appeared to be a benign brain tumor but was throwing haywire signs of being far more deadly then first thought. At forty-two years old, Kale Phillips was on his way home to his wife and two children when he had a sudden seizure and crashed his car into three others. Now sedated against the pain from the deep burns on his entire right side from when the cigarette he'd been enjoying caught the interior of the car while he lay immobile and unconscious, his life and appearance hung in the balance of her and the resident plastic surgeon. Nurses, interns, residents, and the like moved in a fast pace all around her; running, jogging, fast walking. Their voices mingled together and created a loud echo of noises that never seemed to dim. Phones rang, beepers beeped, feet scuffled across the floor. Patients and wannabe-patients called out for attention and help, which Meredith couldn't help but feel rather calm in hearing. She was used to this, had been born and raised to be a surgeon. Her mother was a highly known and sought out one, her sort-of step-father was the Chief of the hospital she was currently working at, all of her friends and her fiancé were doctors.
When she was younger, part of her had rebelled against the idea of being a doctor, of treating people and spending the majority of her days taking care of somebody else. She'd grown up with Ellis as her mother and she'd never been what anybody could call "doting." She was all about being precise and being the best; something Meredith could understand now, but didn't allow it to take over her life, like it had her mothers. Meredith loved being a surgeon; she loved the high of saving a life, the calm that enveloped her when she knew that another person had been saved. But more than that, she loved the atmosphere of a hospital. Sure, it was loud and fast and sometimes she wished she could get more sleep and there were days when the patients didn't make it, but she still loved it. It could be taxing, both emotionally and physically, but there were rewards that lasted a lifetime. Not just the title of being a great surgeon, or the knowledge that people all over the world would one day know of you, but the feeling she got when she returned to her home and crawled into bed. A lightness in her chest, a swelling of her smile, a boost to her pride. She saved lives. It was as simple as that.
Some were in it for the money, some for the title and credit, and others for all of the above. Meredith was not the shallow surgeon that cared little for human life, but one who cared more for it than she probably should. There were cases that she got too close to, moments where she felt like she just couldn't do it anymore and times still, after four years, that she felt like she wasn't putting a dent in the amount of injured and hurt people. It was at these moments that Mark told her that she couldn't look at it as if she was trying to save the world, or stop all of the stupidity and anger and all that caused these people to enter the ER. She was trying to save one life. He told her that it wasn't a goal; she shouldn't be looking at the body count or how many more she could help. She had to focus on the one and put all of herself into saving just that one person, and then she could move onto another. But she had to stop taking them all on as if they were all her responsibility. And she learned that she could keep fighting, she could make it through the hard days. She may lose people, but she could say that she had given it her all, that she had put all of her focus onto that person, and if they didn't make it, then it was not by her doing, but the situation itself. Meredith Grey, soon to be Sloan, was a surgeon through and through.
She felt a hand slide across her back and settle over her ribs, causing her feet to come to a halt. She could feel the heat of his palm through the thin scrubs she was wearing and felt a familiar shiver run down her spine. His body stepped closer and hers seemed to fall back a step to lean into him. Her head fell onto his chest, feeling his chin drop down to sit on top of her hair. His hand rubbed her side, slow and soothing as he read the clipboard that she held a little higher. Three years of friendship and intimacy had left them with a comfortable pattern that was all their own. They were used to certain actions that were unique only to each other and adjusted to that, leaving them in a relationship unlike any before for either of them. In the past they'd been left with miscommunication and constant uncertainty, but with her and Mark, they understood each other. He was blunt and to the point and if he wanted her to know something, he told her. She didn't like things to be left up in the air, she hated it when her former boyfriends ignored the problem or tried to ply her with a half answer. With Mark, she knew what she was getting and was beyond happy with it.
"Are we working the nerve reconstruction and skin graft first or did you have dibs on fiddling with the brain?" he finally asked, his voice rather gruff. It was early, they'd only started shift a half hour or so before and she knew that he was only on his second coffee. He had to have three before he could be his usual self without being extra mean. He never took it out on her, but she was used to sulky morning Mark. They'd stopped at a Starbucks on their way in, getting their usual before they started their morning rounds.
"We find out in a few hours. I put a rush on the test results. He hasn't had the tumor looked at since he was a little kid. Technology has changed and if it's grown since, which I think it has, we're going to need to get it out of there as soon as possible."
Mark nodded, causing her head to nod with him, making her smile lightly. They must've been quite the sight. Their relationship was nothing new to the other doctors and nurses but she knew there had been a pool going around for the first year about when one of them would cheat or the relationship would end. By the second year, it changed to when they were going to get married and whether or not it'd be because she was pregnant. She wasn't surprised to find out that Bailey had won for the two year mark for when Mark would pop the question and she put money down that they weren't having a baby, which was true. Mark found it all amusing and Meredith wasn't completely sure that he hadn't tipped Bailey off ahead of time. He seemed to be one of the few who weren't scared or intimidated her, and on occasion he'd even made her smile. A big accomplishment!
"Where are you headed now?" he asked, his thumb gently massaging circles into her back unconsciously. It was a habit of his when he was distracted.
"I have interns coming in soon; I have to get them prepped to go. First I'm stopping by to see Peters," she told him, lowering the clipboard and relaxing a little more into his chest. He offered her his half empty cup of coffee and she gratefully took a sip.
"That's the guy with carotid artery stenosis, right?" Mark asked, taking the cup back for her when she was done and taking a guzzle himself.
She nodded, sighing to herself. "The antiplatelet drugs aren't working."
"When's surgery then?" he wondered, tossing the empty into the garbage nearby.
"Tomorrow. I'm scrubbing in with Jacobs," she told him, a small, amused smile finding her mouth when she just knew he was rolling his eyes. "I don't think he's going to hit on me during surgery, Mark."
"You never know, Grey," he muttered, his hand tightening on her side. "Guy's a manwhore; doesn't even pause when you wave the ring in front of him."
Meredith snorted. "Is this really a subject you're able to talk about objectively?"
She felt the rumble of his laughter roll up in his chest. "I never said I wasn't flawed... He's not even that good at it."
"Then why are you so worried?" she asked, lifting a brow though she knew he couldn't see her face from the angle they were standing.
"I'm not worried," he replied smugly, his hand slowly rising to a place that would be completely inappropriate given they were standing in the center of a very busy hall. He laughed when her hand swept up and stopped his ascent. "I'd just prefer it if he had enough respect to keep his mouth shut around you."
"Or what?" she asked, turning around to smile up at him. "Are you going to mess him up, Dr. Sloan? Kick his ass for hitting on your woman? Argh!" she said, imitating a caveman and not even trying to hide her amused expression.
He shook his head at her, smirking down at her. She could tell already that he was waking up more and his gruff exterior was melting before her. "I don't have to fight him. I'll give him the look," he said with authority.
She snorted, biting her lip.
"What? You don't think 'the look' will stop him?" he asked, his hands finding her hips, thumbs brushing beneath her smock to coax a reaction out of her bare skin.
She shook her head, her bangs slipping out from beneath her ear and covering part of her eye. "I think 'the look' is the only expression you make at him. He probably doesn't know what you look like without it," she told him, shrugging, her free hand resting on the crook of his arm while her other hung by her side, clipboard still in hand.
He frowned, his eyes darkening. "You'd think he'd learn." He wasn't jealous, she knew that. Mark simply didn't get jealous. He was only annoyed that his own status as her fiancé wasn't being noticed; that he himself wasn't being given the respect he believed he deserved. Jacobs was one of Mark's least liked surgeons in the hospital, and Meredith had heard his dislike for the neurosurgeon enough to know that his pointing the finger at Jacobs' interest in her was just another way to point out he'd grown out of being anything remotely like the man he looked down on. She enjoyed disagreeing with him though; it was a hobby of hers.
"It's harmless flirting," she said with a shrug. "If he tries to impregnate me, I'll call out for help," she assured, nodding with a feigned sage expression.
Mark rolled his eyes. "We used to harmlessly flirt. You remember? Now look where you are," he said, lifting a brow.
"You're right. This is all leading up to me leaving you at the altar to run off with the hairy-browed neurosurgeon that has a permanent leer stuck to his face." She smirked, "And nobody thought I could do better than you."
Chuckling, Mark shook his head, rubbing her sides a few times, which she knew meant that he had to get going, despite his desire not to leave. She loved knowing those little mannerisms of his, it reinforced her certainty that they were ready to get married and plan a long term future with each other. "I should check on Peters."
Nodding, he leaned forward, his lips brushing against hers before he turned and rubbed his cheek over hers, his carefully trimmed whiskers brushing over her sensitive skin and leaving her a little breathless. "Lunch; meet me in that abandoned hallway."
She nodded, feeling slightly unsteady on her feet. "You bringing your own food or you want me to pick something up for you?"
"You know what I like," he said simply. He moved to walk past her, his hand dragging across her stomach. Her head turned to watch him go and she briefly wondered if she'd always feel so intoxicated by him. Two and a half years and the feeling never dulled. Taking a deep breath, she moved to check in on Jacobs before she rounded up her interns and sent them off to various cases.
Mark Sloan walked through the hallways with a confidence in his step that couldn't be feigned. His white coat swished around his legs against the air that blew past from his large gait. His mind was alert and sharp already, but the desire for a hot coffee was still strong. He'd been up and moving for over six hours, but he'd already had three whiny patients, a nurse that stuttered whenever she tried to talk to him, and an intern that had a tendency to trip and fall into him. He knew he could be intimidating, it was something he took pride in, but if one more person bumped into him, he was going to lose his outwardly impassive exterior and start yelling. He'd barked orders at the intern to get away from him three different times, but every time he turned a corner, there the boy was. He was on his way to the abandoned hallway that he and Meredith often met for lunch, when they had time or made time for just each other. Her group of friends were put out by it on occasion, but he figured since they were getting married that week, they were free to exercise a little alone time.
Plans for the wedding had been going full force for the last four months, mostly headed by Izzie. Originally, Stevens, Yang, and O'Malley weren't very accepting of the idea of them dating. They'd been so-so about them being friends, but it wasn't as if he was at the top of their list for guests at BBQ's or invited him to Joe's for a drink. But Meredith held fast to her friendship with him and with Alex around to say he didn't care who she was friends with, it was her own decision, she was able to tell her friends that she did have the right to have friends they didn't approve of. After Derek left, things for Meredith had been up in the air. Mark had noticed a serious decline in her desire to move, let alone work. Not one for emotional outreach or support, he wasn't entirely sure what to do. So he dropped by to sit with her for lunch one afternoon and didn't say a thing. He simply sat there, ate his food, and nodded hello and goodbye at her; it became a regular silent routine of theirs. He wasn't sure why his presence helped, but one day she turned and said simply, "Thank you." He later found out that every time any of her other friends sat with her, they bombarded her with questions. They wanted to know how she was dealing, if she was all right, did she want to tell them everything that happened. And all she needed was somebody to be there, to just let her know that she wasn't alone, and somehow he'd done that. He watched her slowly transform back into a less dark and lonely version of the Meredith he'd only sort of known.
It wasn't until two months after Derek's desertion of her and the hospital, that he saw a vast change. They'd been just getting off a fifteen hour shift...
Mark walked down the still busy hallway, his shoulders a little slumped from his long day and his demeanor stating that he wanted a cold beer, a comfortable bed and a remote control in his hand. It bugged him that he'd be going home alone, that there was nobody he could even have that beer with, and he was reminded of just how much he'd screwed things up with Addison and Derek. They'd been his family. His best friends and the people he relied on day to day. They were who he talked to, who he hung out with, who he spent the hours he had off with. Now all he had was Grey, and he had no idea where she was. He'd seen her running around all day long, but she had no time to stop and chat. She'd even missed their regular lunch together and he found that bothered him, probably more that it should. He was out the doors of Seattle Grace, scowling at the rain, when he heard heavy footsteps coming his way. He figured it was just another patient or one of the other doctors or nurses leaving or going, but then he felt a hand grip his shoulder and started slightly. Turning, his expression turned to one of relief, quickly covered by a smirk. "Chasing me, Grey? I thought we were strictly friends?"
Rolling her eyes, Meredith, shook her head. "What are you doing tonight?" she asked, sounding rather breathless.
Mark pondered the question for a second, wondering if he should say something flirty or just give her a standard answer. Since she had a no-nonsense look about her, he simply sighed and told her the truth. "Home; to a beer, a bed, and my trusty TV. Why?"
"Make a quick trip with me first?" she asked, her brows lifting with hope.
"Can't one of your people go with you?" he asked, only slightly exasperated. What could she possibly have to do at eight thirty at night?
"You are one of my people," she said with a shrug. "The others are still working, besides Alex who's already at home sleeping. Your beer and TV will wait for you. Come on, Sloan, it's not like I'm asking you to do anything physically taxing."
His mouth turned into a smirk. "I'd probably be more inclined if you were," he said, a playful leer on his face as he took in her rain soaked body.
Snorting, she smiled at him and shook her head. "Put the McSteamy face away. Are you coming or not?" she asked, before turning and walking away, dismissing him.
Frowning, Mark caught up to her a handful of steps away and threw an arm around her shoulder. "Since I'm one of your people," he said with a feigned serious voice, though he was rather touched by the fact that she did think of him to be such, "I can't in good conscience allow you to do whatever it is you're doing without me." He nodded, directing her towards his car.
Fifteen minutes later, Mark found himself in the shampoo aisle of a grocery store. He thinned his eyes and sighed exasperatedly at the woman by his side. "Seriously Grey, you brought me shampoo shopping? You know I'm not O'Malley, right? I don't do girly stuff."
Meredith looked over at him, amusement shining on her face. "You're here to help me with a very important job, Sloan." She reached out, took a green bottle from the shelf and held it up to him. "Smell."
He glared at her, not moving an inch, but she held it up to him expectantly until he finally caved and leaned forward to take a deep whiff. "Smells good. Get it, let's go." He turned to leave, but she grabbed his arm.
"Nope. Gotta find the right one," she told him, pulling him back.
"What d'you mean? That one's good. There's nothing wrong with it. Let's go," he said again, turning once more.
"My hair always smells like lavender," she told him, sounding almost sad. "I've gotten lavender shampoo for I don't know how long and it's time for a change." She paused for a moment. "It was... He..."
Mark stilled, realization dawning. "It was something Derek noticed or liked," he said; a statement rather than a question.
She nodded rather jerkily, putting the green bottle back on the shelf. "Yes. So it's time for a new Meredith. A new shampoo, a new scent, a new everything."
"Everything, huh? I kinda liked you the way you are," he told her sincerely. She looked up at him, gratitude shining in her green eyes. Before she could get mushy on him, he reached out and took a black bottle from the shelf, smelling it. "Not this one. It's too loud for you."
"Loud?" she asked, lifting a brow and looking confused.
"Yeah. Too bold and heavy. You need something more feminine; softer," he said shrugging as he grabbed another bottle.
"You don't think I'm bold? I'm bold! I can be bold!" she told him rather loudly.
Mark chuckled, taking out a light blue bottle and sniffing it and then turning his head back to the last bottle he grabbed and smelling it again. "It's not an insult, Grey. You're not meek, either. You're... you. I can't explain it." He waved it off impatiently. "You just give off a feminine, soft look. Soft skin, soft scent, soft heart. You know?" he asked, looking over at her briefly. "Try this one," he said, offering a bottle to her.
She stared at him a moment before leaning in and inhaling the scent offered. Nodding slowly, a smile creased her mouth. "I like that one."
"Me too," he said, putting the grey bottle back and holding onto the light blue as he made a cursory inspection of the widespread shelves of bottles. "Are we done or do you want to keep looking?"
She didn't reply right away and he turned to look at her questioningly. She stared at him, her clear green eyes meeting his deep blue steadily, something in her gaze that wasn't there before. "I knew you'd be perfect for this job."
"Yeah?" he asked, putting a little amusement into his voice, despite the fact that he'd felt a little breathless there in the silence.
"Yeah," she said with a decidedly strong nod. Reaching out, she tapped the bottle. "That's the one. We can go now." She started walking out of the aisle, leaving him behind to gather his thoughts. Realizing she was nearly out of the aisle, he hurried after her. Looking up at him as she caught up to her, she smiled, "Chasing me, Sloan? I thought we were strictly friends," she said, reiterating his greeting from earlier.
Smiling, he chuckled under his breath. "You know, Grey, sometimes shampoo smells differently from the bottle compared to when you've used it," he said in a very serious tone.
Her smile faded slightly; confusion marring her face. "And...?"
"Since you need my expertise on the subject, a bath is in order. I'll lather, you rinse," he said, smirking lasciviously.
Her smile returned, eyes glittering with amusement. She laughed, shaking her head at him. "Person or no person, Sloan, you are never getting in my tub with me," she said, waving her finger around.
"All right," he said, nodding agreeably. Her eyes narrowed, disbelieving his easy retreat. "My tub it is," he said, putting the bottle down on the counter for the cashier to ring through. He smiled as Meredith rolled her eyes, wrapping an easy arm around her shoulders. She did smell like lavender, he noticed as her head fell back on his shoulder. He decided the new shampoo was much better and he loved knowing that it was him who picked it.
Mark found her sitting on a gurney in their usual spot, back against the wall and a bottle of water held up in her hand. Her leg was curved up and sitting on the edge of the bed while the other dangled over, moving back and forth absently. Her eyes caught sight of him and he forced his feet not to speed up when he noticed the smile curve her mouth and the sparkle in her eye. She had an effect on him that he'd never really been through before. There was a connection between them that he'd never taken the time to create with other women. Their relationship was built on trust, loyalty, friendship, and a love that turned even the hard-hearted him into a softy. She made him laugh, took away the stress when it became too much, listened to him rant about his patients or simply lay around with him when he just wanted some peace and quiet. She understood his moods, probably better than he did, could read his little actions as if he was telling her what they meant straight out, and loved his blunt attitude even when it was directed at her. He never though he'd find a woman who'd take the good and the bad and still love him for it; someone who knew his past and didn't hold it against him.
They stayed close friends for six months before he finally asked her out on a date; a real one too, not just out for a beer at Joe's in hopes that the tequila would do the work. He valued her more than that and they'd gone on probably the worst date known to man. The waiter spilled her dinner in her lap, knocked Mark's wine onto his dessert, charged them for a bottle twice as much as the wine they got, and reminded them that a tip was mandatory. By the time they left, Mark was in such a foul mood he was considering going back just to beat the clumsy twenty-something kid up, but then Meredith laughed. She laughed so hard she was clutching her sides, had tears in her eyes, and was almost falling over. And he joined her; he'd never laughed so hard in his life. For some reason he didn't know, she agreed to another date, and a few days later they went to a little diner a few blocks from the hospital, where they had burgers, fries, and a couple cokes. It was the best date he'd ever had. They talked, they laughed, they didn't spill one thing, the bill was pocket change, and they weren't unnecessarily interrupted by any waiters. When they walked out, he had her hand in his and he was walking on cloud nine. It was all good after that. They had their fights, they didn't always agree; him and George didn't like each other, he thought Izzie could be overbearing, she didn't like that he tended to flirt with the nurses without even trying to, he was still a little scared that she loved Derek, and she hated that he was insecure about someone she'd never loved like she did him. They were happy together though, despite the problems they had. They had their own house, aspirations for a future together, a job they both loved. No matter how much he flirted with nurses or whoever, he never once considered cheating. He'd put that in the past and he was fully committed to just Meredith. Their one-night stands were nonexistent any longer and their sexual appetite was very much fulfilled with each other.
He fell in love with her quickly, but he didn't tell her for almost a year of their relationship. She said it earlier, she took the chance and she told him while they were watching a Yankees and Mariners game, where they were cheering for opposite teams, on his big screen TV. It was a commercial break; he'd been getting them something to drink and bringing the finished platter of nachos into the kitchen. She slipped up behind him, her arms wrapping around his waist and her cheek pressed against his back. She said it very quietly, and he almost had to strain to hear her over the loud commercials playing in the background. She started out in a bit of a confusing babble, "You don't have to say it back. I'm not expecting some huge display or anything. I just wanted you to know that these last months have been wonderful; you have been wonderful. I'm not sure what I expected when we got together but this is beyond anything I could have imagined. I mean, as friends we were great, but as this we're... incredible. You know, no arrogance intended.
"I know we have a few problems and I know you probably won't believe me when I first say it, because you seem to think that my heart is always stuck on Derek and I can't just tell you that it's not, you need to believe it on your own. I mean, yes, I did love him. I think I'll always have those feelings, even if they're not as crippling as they used to be. But I'm not... I'm not pining after him. I'm not waiting for him to come back or- or using you until he does. You know?"
She didn't wait for him to reply and he didn't know what to say anyway. "I've enjoyed all of our time together. I feel so much lighter now, like I really have something to look forward to each day. It's nice waking up to you and seeing you or just hearing your voice. And I..." She sighed, her arms tightening around him. "I don't want you to freak out or run off or even stew over this too much. I want you to accept it as is and just... just know that it's what I feel."
Her hands rubbed his stomach, palm somehow relaxing the rest of him as it methodically rubbed his abdomen, just like she did every time they finished making love. She'd wrap herself against his side and her hand would rub circles and shapes all over her stomach until he relaxed into a peaceful sleep, holding her comfortably against him.
"I love you," she said, her voice quiet but steady. A few moments later, she repeated it, louder and with no less strength. "I love you, Mark."
His breath caught and despite the fact that he felt it too, his mouth didn't work. The rest of him did, however, and he covered her still hand sitting on his side, lifting it to his mouth and kissing the palm. A few seconds later she was telling him the game was back on and things were back to normal. She told him not to stew, but he spent the majority of the game staring at her, a smile on his mouth that did nothing to hide how proud and secure he felt with her.
"How's my favorite plastic surgeon?" Meredith's voice interrupted his thoughts, drawing him back to her.
He grinned, his eyes taking in her happy expression. She'd been smiling more in the last few months, not that she hadn't been smiling a lot to begin with. But now she was radiant, almost glowing. Things had been going well for them; better than okay what with the wedding. But there was less drama lately. There were still the patients causing a ruckus and it seemed her friends lives were never boring, but he and Meredith had hit a long period of no problems. The house they wanted was all theirs, the day they wanted to get married on was free, the family and friends they wanted to invite were all able to come, and weird uncle Albert wasn't able to, their jobs were extra interesting, and not one dramatic end-all fight had separated them. There were no secret lurking lovers, or husbands and wives looking for their spouses. They had no secrets and their relationship was flourishing because of it. But that's what worried him. Given how dramatic their lives had always been, he was waiting for the shit to hit the fan; for somebody to object or get in the way or something. He knew she felt the same way, but she was dealing with it by simply enjoying the good time as long as she could.
Climbing up to sit next to her on the gurney, he leaned back against the wall and turned his face down so he was just inches from her mouth. She looked up at him, her eyes glimmering with amused adoration. "He's sick of interns and nurses and just about everyone in this hospital," he told her, nodding slightly, his eyes falling to her lips and then finding her green gaze again.
"Everyone?" she said, her voice cheeky, but quiet, as if trying to keep their conversation just between them, despite the emptiness of the hall.
"There might be a resident somewhere that he doesn't mind," he replied, his voice low and coaxing.
"Don't mind?" she said, laughing. Leaning back, she shook her head. "Well, I think we should search for her. Ask around, try and find her. Maybe she could cheer him up."
Grinning, Mark wrapped an arm around shoulder and pulled her up against his side. "She already has."
Meredith sighed comfortably, her head sitting on his shoulder and her legs lifted up to lay curved on the bed. "I got you an egg salad sandwich, no onions, and those cookies you like," she told him, her hand rubbing circles on his stomach absently.
"Yeah?" he said, letting his eyes fall shut and breathing in the jasmine scent of her shampoo. There was a hint of his soap on her skin too, after the shower the shared she came out smelling like him everywhere but on her hair. Unfortunately, she thought it'd be only fair to lather his hair with the same shampoo. There was something oddly intimate about knowing that they smelled like each other.
"Yeah. And an apple; a green one. Oh, and I got you a bottle of water, you need to cut down on the coffee, you practically live off of it," she told him, shaking her head slightly, her fingers curling and then straightening, scratching his side through his scrubs.
He snorted, "Like you're one to talk. And I'm a doctor; it'd be weird if I didn't live off of coffee."
He could feel her smile against his chest. "Hey, I forgot, I have to go shopping with Cristina after work."
Mark smirked, his eyes opening as he shook his head. "This doesn't have anything to do with the dress you said you picked out but haven't yet, does it?"
"I did pick a dress," she told him, lifting her head and staring at him with wide eyes. "Really!"
"You did not," he said, shaking his head. "There's only a week left. Personally, I wouldn't mind it if you showed up naked, but I'm not sure our guests would take it so lightly." He laughed at her indignant expression, kissing the top of her head and nuzzling her forehead with his cheek.
"Okay, I haven't, but I will. Today. I will. When I come home I will have a dress! You won't know it, because I can't show you, but I will have it," she told him decisively.
"Sure," he said, smiling to himself.
"You don't believe me," she accused, rolling her eyes.
"How many times have you said this?" he asked, lifting a brow.
"A… few," she admitted, looking away.
He snorted before sighing contently, "As long as you show up I'll be happy with whatever you're wearing." He hoped his slight insecurity didn't show. He was still waiting for that last anvil to drop and he knew that with their wedding approaching, it had to be coming.
She looked up at him, before throwing her leg up and over so she was sitting in his lap. He arms wrapped around his shoulders and her head leaned forward, forehead meeting forehead. Their gazes locked and she whispered, her mouth moving just barely, "Nothing will keep me from marrying you."
And he believed her.
To be continued...
